Monday's Child
by B.C. Crossing
Summary: Each aspect of life is altered forever as the Martian wars take their toll on the brave soldiers who fight them. Deep emotional battles are often harder to fight than our heroes let on. Based on the Monday's Child Poem.
1. Vinnie

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Biker Mice from Mars. If I did, I would be hiring some of you to write new episodes. As I do not, sadly, no jobs for you.

**A/N: **Rated for a swear word or two and for unpleasant/dark situations, whether in this chapter or upcoming chapters. You have been warned.

**Also:** This story is inspired by the Monday's Child Poem. If you have never heard of it, you can either look it up or read it as I upload each chapter (I will add a line of the poem with each chapter at the beginning). Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Monday's child is fair of face<strong>

It was a quiet night in Chicago. Limburger's tower was a pile of rubble after his latest scheme was, once again, thwarted by those rock n' roll-loving, motorcycle-riding, furry heroes of Mars; and all through the Scoreboard, not a creature was stirring, not even a Mouse. Except one, the youngest Biker Mouse was pacing restlessly across the main living area of the Martian's hideout. The fun-loving, spirited, wild child was deeply distressed.

Vinnie couldn't sleep. He had spent an hour tossing and turning in his hammock, but sleep still eluded him. So, there he was, pacing in the middle of the night. Clenching his hands into tight fists, he snarled under his breath, not wanting to wake his bros. He did _not_ want them to see him like this. He refused to let them to see the "real" him. The Vinnie that was unsure and defeated. The true him, who was a failure and a fraud. He could normally keep his doubts and fears hidden, but sometimes he could almost spontaneously combust from all the pent up rage and humiliation.

With a low growl, he pivoted swiftly, his tail swishing dangerously and continued pacing. He and his bros had a long and difficult battle with the Limburger's newest batch of ruffians earlier that day. _Stinkface must be having trouble rehiring the same goons_, Vinnie thought, a slight smirk flinted across his face. _The old ones must be getting tired of having their asses handed to them; but these new ones are dumber than mud._ Reaching the end of another cycle, instead of pivoting to go back the way he just came, Vinnie continued forward, heading out of the door. Still growling and snarling, he stomped over to his bike; swung his leg over and revved the engine; and flung his helmet off to the side. The bike roared to life and he sped away from Quigley Field and into the city.

Speeding down the deserted street, Vinnie couldn't get out of his head what that thug had said to him. _He made of my mask. My mask. _Stopping at a red light, Vinnie caught sight of his face in the mirrored glass of a store. _I'm hideous, _he thought._ I'm nothing but an ugly failure with the proof that is all I'll ever be._ With his tires squealing, he turned the corner and continued his break neck pace, going faster and faster. Gnashing his teeth, Vinnie's mind kept replaying and replaying the scene from earlier…

"Aww, did something happen to the little biker? What's the matter, freak? Did you try to cut away your ugliness with a blunt knife?" The thug laughed. "Did you go crying to your mama; or did she throw you out when she caught sight of that ugly mug of yours? Nice mask, vermin. Get caught in a mouse trap?" The brute laughed raucously, striking a tender spot in the white furred mouse's ego. With a fearsome roar, Vinnie launched himself at his adversary; fear etching into the man's face.

Vinnie spent hours riding around Chicago, racing down streets and across rooftops pushing his bike's limits to the extreme. But nothing he did could lighten his mood. His thoughts wandered towards a very dark place in his mind. _I'm a failure,_ he thought as he remembered the first time he realized he was permanently disfigured. _Karbunkle ruined me. If I had only been a smarter, faster and stronger fighter, I would still be perfect. But instead, I'm a broken, worthless idiot._ With a sigh, Vinnie halted his bat-out-of-hell ride. Looking up he realized with a start that he ended up at The Last Chance Garage. "Charley-girl, if only you knew. If only you realized what I really am, a freak, a pathetic nobody; you wouldn't be so nice to me." Hanging his head, he silently crept inside the garage, making sure that he didn't disturbed Charley as he made his way to the bathroom.

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><p>Charley woke up from a deep sleep, her instincts instantly alerting her that someone was in her home. Quickly seizing the laser pistol that the Bros had given her from her nightstand, she quietly tiptoed out of her bedroom and made her way to the bathroom. Carefully peeking around the slightly ajar door, she sighed in relief. <em>It's only Vinnie. Thank goodness. I'm going to kill him dead. <em>Taking a closer look, she almost gasped in shock. He was crying. Vincent, the ever energetic, original party animal, was crying. In her bathroom. In the middle of the night. Placing the pistol in a safe spot, she knocked on the door. "Vinnie? Are you ok? What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Hm, oh, ah, no, Charley. Everything is fine. Just took a late night ride to keep you company. I figured you most likely missed the baddest mammajammer and needed me to fight off this night chill for you." Vinnie said with his usual bravado. With one last final swipe with the back of his hand to rid the last trace of his tears, he opened the door, smirking.

Charley rolled her eyes to play along with the mouse, but instantly noting that he had a couple squashed bugs on his mask, right above his ear. _Drooping ears and antennae, an extremely late house call and squashed bugs on his face. He's upset and he doesn't want to share with me. Too bad_, the mechanic sighed inwardly_ he is going to share with me, one way or another._ "Want some hot cocoa, hotshot?" she asked, with a tiny grin tugging on the corners of her mouth as they moved down to the kitchen.

"Nothing is as hot as this smoking, fine piece of Martian studliness," Vinnie boasted, his chest puffing out. Shaking her head in wonder at the endless machismo, she filled the kettle with milk.

"I'm sure." She remarked drily as she readied their mugs for the milk. Once the milk was ready and she added it to the sweetened chocolate, they sat down on the couch. Drinking and reflecting in the silence of the lateness of the night.

"When are you going to invite me stay the night, Sweetheart? Just the two of us," Vinnie asked, no longer able to be alone with his thoughts.

"Wouldn't Throttle and Modo get jealous?"

"Of course not. They realized long ago that I out do them when it comes to the ladies."

Taking a sip of her drink, Charley came to a conclusion. Vinnie was extremely upset. She could tell from the amount of bug gut stains that still covered his torso, head and jeans that he had been riding his bike for several hours. And he had not been wearing his helmet, which was not normal for the Mice, who were sticklers for bike safety. Then there was the matter of his tear stained muzzle. All alarming signs that pointed to a very disgruntled mouse. What also caught her attention was that he grimaced whenever he came into contact with his mask; and the way his eyes practically screamed that he was having an internal struggle. Putting two and two together, Charley came to the astonishing answer to the riddle that was Vinnie: he was appalled of his mask and injuries. Refusing to see her dear friend and protector in such a condition, she took a step that neared a line she could be overstepping her bounds.

Swallowing the final mouthful from her mug, she set it down and faced the struggling mouse who was in need of a reality check. "Vincent, look at me."He looked up with a smirk, which faded immediately when he saw that her facial features were set in a serious mode.

"Vinnie, I can tell that you are struggling with something and it breaks my heart to see you hate yourself for something that is absolutely beautiful. Yes, I know," Charley held up a hand. "That sleazy, no-good Karbunkle gave you those injuries and scars, but you know what? It has made you stronger and a better fighter. You have been given a purpose to make sure that he received justice for all the wrong he has done. You had to be an amazing fighter to survive and escape from that. Your scars are a testament of your bravery and fighting abilities. You've survived countless attempts on your life…and yes, some of them you have put yourself in danger."

Giving him a slight smile, but full of love nonetheless, she continues. "Stop hiding your feelings behind your mask. Hiding them won't make them go away; it will only make them worse. You have Throttle and Modo and me to share your pent up feelings with so you don't need to hide anymore. I realize you don't feel like you would be accepted because of your scars; and you're repulsed because you have them." Reaching over, the woman flicks the bugs off of Vinnie, but keeps her hand on his cheek. "I see them as medals and badges of courage and honor. You've rescued and been there for me time and time again. You are a strong man, Vincent. I'm honored to be called your friend. I accept you for _you_! It wouldn't matter to me if you had lost half of your head."

Standing up, the Earth mechanic leaned over the silent white furred mouse and looked him straight in his eyes. Ignoring the tears of gratitude, she gave him a smile that spoke volumes of her love and respect for him. Wordlessly, she gave him a kiss on his masked cheek and another on his bare muzzle and headed back up to her room. Leaving the White Wonder to mull over what she just said.

Staring at her retreating back, Vinnie let out one sob and then flung himself at the Earth woman; crushing her in a hug and burying his face into her shoulder. With sobs racking his body, he let loose all the bottled up rage, humiliation and suffering that he had kept to himself for years and just wept. Patting his back, Charley steered him back to the couch and just let him get rid of all the negativity he carried with him. They ended up falling asleep in each other's arms, the Earth woman cradling the Martian male protectively. The mouse, now healed from his emotional war, had a slight smile on his face. For the first time in a long time, Vinnie was able to sleep peacefully, now knowing that he was loved and his outward appearance really didn't matter to those closest to him.

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><p><strong>AN:** This is chapter one of seven and each chapter will deal with a different character, so please bear with me. I'm hoping to get the rest up before the end of August, but we will see. My muse is prone to take holidays without notifying me. As this is my first angst fic, feel free to let me know how I did. I encourage constructive criticism.


	2. Throttle

**A/N:** *looks at the original date posted of this story, then looks at the calendar* I'm so terrible sorry, Readers! I was having some issues in my "real" life. Some really bad, few good and some in-between. So my muse decided to take an extended vacation and I was left with a massive writer's block.

If you haven't read Miceaholic's Just Trying to Live, go do it. Amazing story. Same thing for Kelral Orlyana's Outcast.

To Lou and The Third Biker Scholar: A ginormous thank you to you both! Lou, you are simply the best friend. 'Nuff said!

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><p>Monday's child is fair of face<p>

**Tuesday's child is full of grace**

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><p>"Ahh, Chicago," Lawrence Lactavius Limburger sighed as he gazed out of his office window; mentally calculating how much praise and admiration he would receive from his fellow Plutarkians with each city block. "This city will be my ticket back to Lord Camembert's good graces," he chuckled, a sinister grin adorning his face. Spying three very familiar forms on the road below his advantage point, the alien fish's features scowled, his previous good mood turning sour. "If it wasn't for those despicable pests, this city would have been mine to annihilate long ago. I would have been living in the lavish lap of luxury and be one of the richest and distinguished individuals on Plutark, but no! My every attempt to rise beyond this disgraceful status has been foiled at every turn by those ghastly vermin and that infuriating female!" Grinding his teeth, Limburger turned away from his ruined view and stalked over to his desk. Pressing a button, he picked up a handful of darts and turned towards the hidden panel on the far wall. A section of the wall slid upwards, revealing enlarged headshots of the three Biker Mice from Mars. Frowning, he took aim and threw a dart; glowering with exasperation as the dart landed inches from the white-furred Martian's ear. "No matter whom I hire or how I try to take control of this pathetic planet, those mice ruin me repeatedly," he snarled, nearly spitting at the word 'mice'. Throwing a second dart, he grunted with slight pleasure as it landed squarely on the mouse's forehead.<p>

"These blasted bikers have to have at least _one_ weakness, besides Miss Davidson and their _precious_ bikes," he muttered as the next dart landed squarely on the grey Martian's nose. "Unfortunately, I never have the upper hand for too long as they always seem to be able to fight off all of my minions and schemes." Having improved his aim with the first two Mice, evident with their likenesses meticulously covered with darts, the foul-smelling alien moved onto the last photo. "He, he is the cause of all of my misfortune," Limburger hissed at the tan-furred leader of the trio. "Without him the other two would be lost, completely helpless." Angrily he threw a dart, missing the photo by a large margin. "Their leader," he spat. "Their leader with his never-ending honor and integrity. He and his disgusting display of…of course!" Limburger exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with an ominous delight. "What an epiphany," he drawled, walking closer to study the portrait.

"There can't be an individual with that much disgusting display of good will and grace. It _must_ be an act. Yes, an act! A mask, if you will, not unlike my own which conceals my offensive features to these wretched people of Earth. Only _his_ mask masquerades his corrupt nature and not his appearance." Staring at the image, Lawrence Limburger absently traces the Martian's outline. Scrunching his brow, he frowns as he takes the paper to his desk. "Could the two of us be so similar, and yet, so different?" Setting Throttle's picture down, he stares at it and leans back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he continued analyzing this new inspiration. "Surely that vexing rodent cannot be as valiant as he lets on? He must be hiding his true intentions with this _mask_." Limburger reasoned out loud, unconsciously fiddling with his own mask. "No one can be that morally upstanding; he must be playing some devious game!" The abominable scented fish shouted, smashing both of his fists on his desktop forcefully.

"The other two, he must be taking advantage of them, that's the only explanation," the humanoid fish muttered after taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. "He is much more clever and dexterous than the both of them put together. The one is the muscle but a sensitive sort of fellow. The other is just there for reckless destruction and has no sort of intelligence of any means. They provide him with a means to complete orders. Those two rodents provide the brawn to his brains. Why else would he surround himself with such idiocy? Hm." Turning his back towards the desk, Lawrence Limburger went back to staring out of the window, a contemplative frown etched on his false human exterior. "Then again, he has shown that disturbing grace in battle more than once. He rescued that worthless, blubbering buffoon from the Pit Boss' hired hands† and those pestering rodents most assuredly would've caught my motor vehicle if Throttle hadn't stop the other two from running that red light to obey the traffic laws². One cannot keep up such an act just to save his adversaries. What would be the underlying scheme to that? It just doesn't make sense."

"My incompetent inferiors would sell me out in a heartbeat while his companions would stay loyal to him no matter what." The overly ripe Plutarkian sneered in contempt. "Why, even that insufferable Evil Eye Weevil couldn't completely destroy their camaraderie fully³. There **has** to be more to it than that." Getting up from his chair, he started pacing, growling whenever he came into sight of the photograph.

Sighing, the distraught Plutarkian sat back down at his desk; popping the cap off of some antacids to relieve the stomach ulcer that he knew was about to flare up again due to this massive amount of stress. He enjoyed the delightful tablets that the not-so-good doctor did not create while studying the Martian's snapshot. "There has to be more to this furred nuisance than his charisma, honor, integrity and morality. All of these characteristics must be hiding his true intentions. They are just there to draw others to him like honey draws wasps. No one can be that good and upright. It's too abominable if that is all that he is. He wouldn't last one minute if he was of Plutark blood. He has the will to back up his honesty and belief in the justice system. He does not ask for the respect of those lower than him, he just **receives** it! What a self-sacrificing idiot!"

Limburger reached into the bowl of imported Plutarkian Caiso Stink Worms that were always present on his desk and slurped the nose-offending snack into his ample jowls. Still grumbling, he crunched the worms slowly, "I hate him. I hate _**him**_ the most!" He paused for a moment, "But I cannot deny that, even as my most powerful adversary, I admire him above all others."

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><p>†the 'The Pits' episode where Throttle says they must save Greasepit from the bank hold up<p>

²the 'Steelfinger' episode

³the 'Test of Friendship' episode

Caiso Stink Worms: caiso = queso = cheese. (little joke/word play on my part)

I hope you all enjoyed this and thank YOU for being so patient. Again, my apologies for taking so long to update, I'm hoping the other five chapters won't be so long in coming. But since I can't dictate what life sends my way…

Write free, Citizens!


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